The voices started out as a jumble of words that didn't make any sense. They sounded far away, distant, as if part of a dream. Slowly, bit by bit, they came closer, became louder in his conscious. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and he realized that the voices had not been part of a dream. They were right outside his bedroom door.
As his red on black eyes focused in the semi-darkness of his room, Remy LeBeau let out a sigh. It had only been two months since his father had left New Orleans and the Thieves Guild. Remy still wasn't over it. He wasn't sure he would ever forgive his father for putting the well being of the Guild in his hands. He didn't want to be the Guild leader. And he certainly didn't want to be the leader of the Unified Guilds.
When Jean-Luc LeBeau had left, the two Guilds, made of ancient enemies the Thieves and the Assassins, had still been two separate entities, and all was well. But somewhere been then and now, they had merged into one, and Remy felt as though the headache he got that first night after the unification was slowly getting worse instead of getting better. It wasn't exactly that Remy didn't want the two Guilds to be joined into one…if that was what the prophecies called for then who was he to complain?…but why did he have to lead it? Just because the prophecies called for that as well? What a joke. He could think of two people who were just as suited to be Guild leader as he was; nay, they were both much more suited than he.
Remy sighed again and pushed the covers off his slim body. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and shivered slightly when his feet touched the floor. 'I have to remember to get carpeting put in dis room b'fore I freeze my feet off!' he thought with a groan. As he approached the door after putting on his slippers and bathrobe, he sighed for a third time as he recognized the voices. He opened the door and found himself almost literally face to face with two of the Assassins: his ex-wife Bella Donna, viceroy of the Unified Guilds, and her right-hand-man, Gris-Gris, a master of voodoo magic.
"'Scuse, me, but is dere a reason why de two of you are standin' outside my door yellin' at each other at six-thirty in de mornin'?" Remy asked, stifling a yawn and giving them his best 'You-better-have-a-good-answer-for-dis' look.
"Remy, it's really none of your business." Bella Donna replied.
Remy snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, right. If de two of you didn' want me to know 'bout dis you wouldn' be yellin' outside my door."
"Okay, okay. But I want it known right now dat you owe me." Bel said.
"I owe you?" Remy returned, raising his eyebrows. "For what?"
"For savin' Emil's life, dat's for what." Bel told him.
"Dat obnoxious little brat doesn' d'serve to live." Gris-Gris commented darkly.
"Watch yer mouth, Gris." Remy said, his red pupils flashing dangerously at the Assassin.
"Why should I?" Gris-Gris demanded sharply. "He doesn' watch his."
"What'd he say dis time?" Remy asked, knowing full well that his best friend had a tendency to speak first and think later. Emil and Remy had been close friends since they were ten, and in the past fifteen years, Remy had learned on more than one occasion that Emil's mouth got him in trouble. Sometimes, it even got both of them in trouble. Remy was one of the few people who tried to put up with Emil's ways, though, because he cared about Emil, and knew he would never change.
"He's always sayin' somet'ing. It never ends, every time he opens his mouth, he says somet'ing he'd be better off not sayin'." Gris commented. "Dis time he actually had de nerve to say de Assassins didn' want de unification in de first place. He also said it wouldn' surprise him if we were tryin' to undermine it all de time, which we're not. I swear, LeBeau, if he doesn' watch it, he's goin' to get hurt. One of dese times…"
"Gris, leave him alone. I don' want to hear you threatenin' him 'gain. I'll talk to him." Remy said. "Bel, t'anks for doin' whatever you did to help him out. Now can I go back to bed now? Will de two of you stop yellin' out here now?"
"We're sorry for wakin' you up, Remy." Bel said, starting to walk down the hall to her own room. The Guild members all had rooms at the Garden District safehouse, although they didn't all live there permanently.
Gris-Gris looked at Remy. "I can' promise you I'll leave him alone, Remy, mais, I will say dat I'll leave him alone if he stops sayin' stupid t'ings."
"Fair enough, Gris. An' I will talk to him. I can' say he'll stop, but I'll see what I can do 'bout getting him to tone it down some." Remy replied.
Remy went back into his room and got back into bed letting out a fourth sigh. He had a feelin' dat anytime Emil and Gris-Gris were in the same room together, dey were going to need chaperones. Gris' patience with the young thief was wearing very thin, Remy realized, and sometime the big man was going to snap and seriously hurt Emil. He had already almost choked Emil to death twice for saying something obnoxious and stupid.
'One of dese days, Emil's gon' say somet'ing stupid, an' no one will be dere to rescue him from Gris.' Remy thought before drifting back off to sleep.
Remy walked into the living room of the safehouse that afternoon and found Emil and their friend Genard Alouette sitting across from each other, playing Scrabble. Genard was five years older than Emil and Remy, but he spent more time with them then he did with the other members of the Guild.
"Hey, Emil, can I talk to you for a second?" Remy asked.
Emil looked at Genard, who shrugged. "Go ahead, Red. I have to look up somet'ing in de dictionary anyways."
Emil followed Remy out into the hallway so they'd have a bit of privacy. "What's up, Rem?"
"Gris was pretty upset wit' you dis mornin'." Remy commented. "He an' Bel woke me up, yellin' 'bout it. What'd you say dis time?"
Emil averted his blue eyes, avoiding his friend's gaze. "What'd dey tell you?" he asked quietly.
"Somet'ing 'bout you sayin' de Assassins didn' want de unification an' dat dey're undermining it."
"Yeah, dat's pretty much right…" Emil faltered.
"Emil, you have to stop sayin' t'ings like dat! One of dese days, you're gon' get into serious trouble an' no one will be dere to help you out. You're jus' lucky Bella Donna was 'round dis mornin'." Remy said.
"So, what, I'm s'posed to jus' stop sayin' what I t'ink?"
Remy sighed for what seemed like the eight hundredth time that day. "Emil, dat's de problem. You say what you t'ink, but you don' t'ink b'fore you say it. You never stop to realize dat maybe what you're sayin' is gon' make someone mad. Like Gris, for instance."
Emil rolled his eyes. "Gris takes exception to everyt'ing."
"Oui…an' most of what he takes exception to comes out of your mouth, haven' you noticed?" Remy questioned with a raise of his eyebrows. "Look. Can you at jus' try to not say t'ings dat will upset him? I mean he's tried to kill you more times den I can remember, an' I don' want to see dat happen. C'mon, please try?"
Emil sighed. "Okay, okay, I'll try. I promise. Can' promise I'll get very far, mais, I'll try. Can I go back an' finish dat Scrabble game now?"
"Tryin' is all I ask. An' yeah, go finish de game. Hey, mind if I play too? I haven' played Scrabble in awhile."
"Non, I don' mind an' I'm sure Genard won' either. Hey Rem?"
Remy paused at the entrance of the living room. "Oui, Emil?"
"T'anks. I know I don' t'ink as much as I should sometimes, an' everyone gets mad at me more often den not, but you always try to overlook it even t'ough you don' have a reason to. I 'preciate it." Emil said, giving his friend a small smile.
"Emil, you're my best friend, de only real best friend I've ever had," Remy told him. "Dat's one of de reasons I overlook your sometimes out-of-control mouth. Now, come on, Genard's waitin'."